Friday, September 20, 1940, 11:00 AM
“Bessie, there’s a whole crowd of people waiting! I can see photographers and reporters and … oh! There’s Mr. Shakespeare, from Liverpool.” Louis couldn’t wait to tell everyone about how he almost drowned.
It was exactly a week since they’d left Liverpool harbour on the City of Benares. Instead of Canada, they were arriving in Scotland on the HMS Hurricane.
Bess and Beth were both still too weak to walk. They were carried from the ship on stretchers. Louis was practically dancing by Bess’s side. As they were leaving the ship, Bess asked her stretcher-bearer to stop. She beckoned to Albert Gorman who was standing on the deck watching all of the passengers leave. He bent down to her.
“Thank you again,” she said. “I would have died.” She gave him a soft kiss on his rough cheek.
Mr. Shakespeare was on the dock, yelling at the reporters. “No photographs of the CORB children! And no published stories until we’ve alerted next of kin. This directive comes from the prime minister himself. Understood?”
Bess, Beth, and Louis were brought down the gangplank with the four other children from the CORB program. There was little Johnny who kept getting lost and who had such a hard time keeping hold of his life jacket. Bess had heard that Johnny’s brother Bobby had given him his own life jacket when they boarded their lifeboat. There was Jack, Joyce’s brother; and Rex, Marion’s brother. Bess hoped that Marion and Joyce had stayed together. Joyce. She’d never forget the feeling of her hand. But she couldn’t think about that now.
She was slowly carried forward with Johnny, Jack, Rex and Eleanor following behind. Eleanor had been in the lifeboat with Miss Day and stewardess Annie Ryan. Patricia had been there too, apparently, except she hadn’t made it through. Eleanor was having a hard time walking and was leaning on Miss Ryan. Louis told her that Eleanor hadn’t spoken a word since she’d been rescued.
Mr. Shakespeare stood stiffly at the bottom of the gangplank, looking as though he hadn’t slept in days. He stared from one to the next and turned to Lieutenant Commander Simms.
“Is this … all? Seven?” He looked down, then back up at the captain. “There were ninety,” he said softly.
Bess’s stretcher-bearers started to move forward, but Mr. Shakespeare held them back. “If I may. Just one moment,” he said, turning to Bess. “I need to get everyone’s name,” he cleared his throat. “I have to send telegrams.”
“I’m Bess. Bess Walder. This is my brother Louis,” She reached out to Beth in the stretcher beside her. “And this is my best friend Beth Cummings. Will you let our mothers know that we are home in England?”
“We are going to take care of you at the Smithson Hospital. I’ll let your parents know where to find you.” He looked down at Louis. “Are you going to come with the other children to the hotel in Glasgow? The Lord Provost is putting you up, for as long as you need, until your parents can come and get you.”
“I’d rather stay with Bessie, if it’s all right, sir. None of my friends from the ship are there, so I’d just as soon be with Bessie and Beth.”
“Mr. Shakespeare?” Bess called out, as the stretcher-bearer lifted her up. “Can you also tell our parents that we’d rather not be a part of the CORB program anymore? We’d rather stay here, in England. Even with the bombs.”
Mr. Shakespeare looked deeply into Bess’s eyes. “It’s all right, Miss Walder. There is no more CORB program. The government will not be sending any children overseas anymore.” Bess heard him choke back a sob. “I’m so terribly sorry.”
* * *
Sonia stood at the top of the gangplank with her mother, Barbara, Derek, and Colin. It was not the glamorous arrival in Canada that she had imagined. She was wearing her ruined camel-hair coat over the torn outfit she had put on in her cabin three nights ago. Although her mother had tried to comb her hair, she knew that she looked a fright.
A crowd of reporters were gathered at the bottom of the gangplank and there were flash bulbs going off everywhere.
“Can’t they wait until we’ve got some clean clothes on before taking photographs?” Sonia’s mother was horrified.
“I think I can help the situation,” said Mr. Davis. As he headed down the gangplank, he called down in a loud voice, “Hello boys! Eric Davis from the BBC. Have I got a story for you!”
The reporters and photographers swarmed over to Mr. Davis while Sonia’s mother steered them in the other direction.
“First thing I am going to do is to go to the shops and get us all clean clothes,” she said. “You too, Colin. You can’t walk around Scotland in your pyjamas!”
* * *
Bess and Beth were in side-by-side beds in a private room in the hospital. They were treated like royalty by the hospital staff. They were black and blue from head to toe and the shape and colour of their bruises fascinated the hospital doctor. He brought all of the nurses to see them. A reporter had come in and insisted on asking her questions. But Bess really just wanted to sleep.
When a stocky woman with bright dark eyes came into the room several days later, Bess knew her immediately as Beth’s mother. She held Beth and didn’t say anything for a very long time. Then she turned to Bess.
“Hello, Bess. I have already read so much about you in the paper. I understand your mother is coming up from London?”
“Yes. She should be here in a few days.”
“I think I have you to thank for my daughter’s survival.”
“No, Mrs. Cummings, not at all. We looked after each other. I couldn’t have made it without Beth.”
Mrs. Cummings looked at her daughter. “I’ve spoken to the doctor. He says that as long as we have a nurse come in to bandage your feet every day, there’s no reason why I can’t take you home. The hospital is going to give us a wheelchair, since you are not allowed to walk yet.” She sighed. “I’m just so glad that I can take you home.”
Bess knew that Beth had been worried about her mother. “It was the thought of her that kept me alive that night,” she had said to Bess. She knew how important it was for them to be together again. But it was going to be hard to say goodbye.
“You’ll write to me?” said Beth, reading her mind.
“Every day,” said Bess. “And as soon as the war is over, I’m coming to Liverpool. I want to meet those brothers of yours!”
Beth smiled weakly and reached up for her mother’s hand. Mrs. Cummings turned to Bess.
“You’re family now,” she said. “You stay with us as long as you can. I’d take you with me now, except I expect your parents probably want to have some time with you first.”
Bess smiled. “Yes. Louis and I are pretty excited to be going home.”
Mrs. Cummings settled her daughter into the wheelchair.
“Beth?” Bess called to her. Beth wheeled herself close to Bess’s bed. “Thank you,” Bess said quietly, hugging her hard.
“Thank you, dear Queen Bess.”
Bess laughed. “Goodbye, dear Princess Elizabeth.”
After Beth left, Bess missed her mother and father more than ever. She was impatient to go home.
“Your mum’s been slowed up by the Germans,” said her nurse. “I heard on the radio this mornin’ that London’s takin’ it pretty hard. Those jerries have been bombin’ the train tracks, so they have to keep reroutin’ the trains.”
“Oh,” said Bess with a gasp.
“Now, don’t you go worryin’,” continued the nurse. “Your mum’ll be fine. She’s just got to be taking the long ’way round, is all. Could take the better part of the week to get up here to Scotland. Best you just rest up now.”
Bess was happy to spend most of the time sleeping. She was more tired than she imagined it was possible to be. But she was worried about Louis, afraid he might get into mischief wandering around the hospital.
“Louis, are you sure you don’t want to go to the hotel with the others? I really don’t want you to get into trouble here.”
Louis laughed. “I don’t think the nurses would let me go. They are having too much fun playing cards in the nurses’ station.”
“What?”
“I taught them how to play Happy Families! Now they can’t get enough of it,” said Louis. “But it’s all right, Bessie. I make sure they still get their work done.”
At this Bess laughed and decided not to worry any more. Aside from the card games, she knew that Louis also had many new toys to play with. Ever since an article about them had come out in the paper, people had been coming to see them. They always brought gifts. Louis was thrilled with his brand-new Hornby train set.
When Bess’s mother finally walked into the hospital room, Bess was horrified.
“Oh, Mummy! You look awful! You look like you’ve walked from one end of the country to the other!”
“I practically have,” she said, scooping Bess into an enormous hug.
Bess felt a wave of emotion begin to wash over her. She knew that if she started to cry, she might never stop. It was the thought of her mother that had kept her alive and now here she was, finally, warm and familiar. Except—
“What are you wearing? That’s not your dress!” Bess spoke the words without thinking, just to say something to stop the wave. Through the entire ordeal, she’d pictured her mother just the way she looked when she’d left her. Now here she was, bedraggled and in a dress Bess didn’t recognize, one that didn’t fit particularly well.
The nurse burst out laughing. “Well, this is a fine way to great your mam! I’ll go find your brother and see if he’s got better manners!”
As the nurse left, Bess’s mother hugged her again, laughing and crying all at the same time. “No, it isn’t my dress,” she said. “It’s Mrs. Bailey’s dress, from across the road.”
“Mummy!” Louis came skidding into the room and grabbed his mother around the waist. For a long time, no one said a word. Bess pushed aside the memory of losing Louis at sea. She let the joy and relief of the moment sink in.
Finally, her mother sat back and looked at them both, searchingly. “Bess, Louis. I don’t know how to tell you this, after all you’ve been through.” As she paused, Bess’s heart constricted with fear. What? What was she afraid to say?
“Our house was hit,” her mother continued. “Four days after you left. Everything is gone. Your father and I are fine, but we can’t go home.”
“What about my old train set?” asked Louis, an odd look on his face.
“It’s gone, I’m afraid. I know I promised to look after it, but there was nothing I could do.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, Louis.”
“That’s all right, Mummy,” he said brightly. “I’ve got a new one, see!”
Louis pulled his new train set out from under the bed and started setting it up on the hospital floor.
Bess took a few deep breaths before she trusted herself to speak. She had dreamed of going home, dreamed of the safety of her own bed. All of that time on the overturned lifeboat, she had pictured her mother and father, pictured her house, pictured life before the war. But she realized now there was no way of going back to the time before the war. Life would never be the same.
But they were all alive. That was all that mattered.
“Where will we go?” she finally asked.
“Your father has found us a cottage in a little place called Uley,” said her mother gently. “It’s inland, in Gloucestershire, and should be safe. We’ve got a bit saved, and Dad’s got hopes of a job as a caretaker at the little local school.” Her mother smiled reassuringly, although tears were streaming down her face. “Oh, Bess. We’ll be together.”
A cottage in the country sounds very peaceful, thought Bess. Maybe Beth could visit. When the trains are running. She smiled, weakly.
“Bess. There’s another thing,” said her mother, drying her eyes. “You’ve received a lot of letters.”
“Letters? What letters?” Bess couldn’t imagine who would be writing to her.
“The story that you told the reporter made quite an impact,” her mother said. “You’ve become famous.”
“What?”
“You are one of the very few who survived. How you did it is nothing short of a miracle,” her mother said. “The story has been in every paper, and they are always talking about you on the radio.”
It was a miracle that Bess lived with every day. She didn’t understand it at all. She didn’t do anything special. All she did was hold on until Albert Gorman came along to rescue her.
“Parents have been writing letters to the newspapers, and they’ve been forwarded to me,” her mother explained.
“Parents?” said Bess.
“Parents of the other children on the boat. They want to know if you can tell them anything about what happened. I think some of them are still hoping that their children might be found.” Her mother looked at Louis playing on the floor. “It would be so terrible to lose a child, not to know what happened,” she said softly.
Images of the night on the deck flashed into Bess’s mind: Children in pajamas, shivering. Abandoned dolls and teddies. Joyce’s hand in hers.
“I’ve been replying to them, explaining that you need time to recover, but I brought you one.” Bess looked down at the thin blue envelope in her mother’s hand. “It’s from a girl who must be about your age. She was a sister of one of the children. I thought it might do you a bit of good to write to her.” Her mother’s eyes welled up. “They say it sometimes helps to write.”
Dear Miss Walder,
I hope you do not mind me writing to you. I read about you in the paper. I was surprised when I read your name, because my sister Gussie mentioned you in her letter to me. She said that you were helping our Lenny to write a letter to our parents.
Gussie had big dreams of a life in Canada and she sounds very happy in her letters. We wouldn’t have those letters if it hadn’t been for you and your friend helping the little ones to write them.
The letters mean a lot to my parents and me. They’re all we’ve got left of Gussie, Connie, Violet, Eddie, and Lenny. So I wanted to thank you. For your kindness.
Sincerely,
Kathleen Grimmond
Beth’s hand traced over the fine penmanship of Kathleen’s letter. She thought, you never know how the smallest act might take on huge significance. You never think about how important each day is.
Dear Kathleen,
I hope you do not mind me calling you Kathleen. I feel I know you already. Gussie spoke of you so fondly. She told me that I would like you because you were smart, and she hoped that we would all meet in Canada one day.
Gussie was a wonderful big sister. Everyone on the boat was impressed by the way that she looked after Connie, Violet, Eddie, and Lenny. She kept them tidy, reminded them of their manners, and stayed with them always. When I last saw her, she had her arms around them all as they waited to get into one of the lifeboats. They were together and she made sure they were not afraid.
I do not know how or why Beth and I survived, when so many others did not. It was very hard, but I think it is infinitely harder to lose someone you love. When I thought that I had lost my brother, I didn’t think I could live with the pain. But I knew that I had to keep going, for my mother and father. I expect you feel the same.
I am grateful to have known Gussie, if only for a short time. I will remember her always.
Your friend, Bess Walder